


Irreplaceable

by belmanoir



Category: due South
Genre: Episode Tag, Gen, Juliet is Bleeding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-02
Updated: 2012-04-02
Packaged: 2017-11-02 22:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belmanoir/pseuds/belmanoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After "Juliet is Bleeding," Ray doesn't want to buy a new Riv.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Irreplaceable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Greensilver (Trelkez)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trelkez/gifts).



> Beta'd by Sonia.

"Detective Vecchio. Can I speak to you in my office?"

Ray lifts his head from the file he's not really reading. "Yes, sir."

When the door is shut, Welsh steeples his fingers. "I notice you're still driving a car from the motor pool, Detective."

"Yes, sir." 

Welsh sighs. "As ecstatic as our insurance carriers are that you're no longer driving around in a personal vehicle with a history of expensive repairs and sudden explosions, I'm going to have to ask you to look for another Buick."

"Why, sir?" Ray hates the motor pool car. It handles like shit, it has weird green stains on the upholstery, and every time he looks at it, he smells burning flesh. But he wants that. 

"Do I need to give you a reason?"

He watches a spot on the wall behind Welsh. "I can't just replace what was lost, sir." His own loss is the only one that's replaceable. The least he can do is not replace it. 

Welsh leans forward in his chair. "You may have noticed that Detective Huey has not yet been returned to active duty."

"Yes, sir."

"He keeps screaming at his therapist."

"He does?"

"When I asked him why, he blamed it on your car. Or rather, your lack thereof."

Ray doesn't try to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "Yeah, I'm sure me having a new Riv would fix all of Huey's problems."

"He says that every morning when he goes to his therapy appointment, he sees you parking your beige Ford, and then he goes and screams at his therapist. He feels there is a connection between these two events."

Ray never even thought that maybe Huey smells burning flesh when he looks at the motor pool car too. He feels sick. "I'll get right on it, sir."

"Thank you. And uh--Vecchio?"

"Yes, sir?"

For the first time, Welsh looks a little awkward. "I notice Constable Fraser hasn't been by much recently."

Ray swallows. "No, sir."

"Detective Huey asked me, to ask you, to inform the constable that there are no hard feelings on his side about his role in clearing Zuko."

Fraser hasn't been here because Ray doesn't want him here. Okay, Ray does want him here. Ray wants him here desperately. And he knows Fraser's hurt that Ray's been ignoring his hints about coming by, and putting Fraser off when he calls to ask if Ray would like to meet for lunch. But he can't just--Fraser and a new Riv would make Ray feel better, feel almost normal, and Ray doesn't want to feel better or normal. He doesn't want to go on as if nothing has happened. 

But maybe going on as if nothing has happened is what Huey needs right now. Maybe Ray should have fucking _asked_ what Huey needed. "I'll do that, sir." He turns to go.

"No one can replace what we lost, Detective," Welsh says behind him. "Do me a favor and help me preserve what's left."

Ray shuts the door a little too hard. He looks at Gardino's empty desk. What the hell does Welsh mean, what's left? Nothing's _left_. The clean desk is like a black hole in the corner of the bullpen. No clutter, no pocket pointer, no collection of unusual paperclips, no Louie's hideous glasses sitting on a stack of files. Ray never even realized he kind of liked the guy until he was gone.

He marches over to Huey's desk.

Huey gives him an apprehensive look, like he thinks Ray is going to try to talk to him about his feelings.

"I'll look for another Riv," Ray says, laying a hand awkwardly on the corner of the desk.

Huey nods.

"I'm sorry about Gardino." His voice cracks. He should have said it weeks ago. "It should have been me." He picks his hand up as if he's going to do something with it, but there's nothing to do, so he slaps it back down on the desk.

Huey's eyes narrow. "I _wish_ it had been you, Vecchio."

Ray's stomach feels like lead. He nods. 

"Louis was my partner, and you're just a mook with a desk across the room. It's nothing personal."

The world shifts. Somewhere along the line, Ray made this all about him, and it's not. Of course Huey wishes it had been him. And, he thinks suddenly--if it _had_ been him, maybe Fraser would be wishing it was Gardino. Deserving isn't the point. This is what death is like. "Hey, uh, I'm gonna call Fraser and see if he wants to get lunch, would you--"

"I'd rather gnaw off my own arm."

Ray nods and coughs and wonders what to do next.

"But thanks," Huey adds, a lot quieter.

Well, that only leaves one option. "Yeah, yeah," he mutters, and flees.

Turnbull seems excited to hear his voice. "Detective Vecchio! I'll get him right away. No, no, he isn't busy." Turnbull covers the phone with one hand, but Ray can hear him yelling happily, "It's your American friend, Constable! Maybe he's calling to invite you to lunch!" 

Fraser sounds embarrassed when he picks up the phone. "I apologize for Constable Turnbull. I have reason to believe he may be suffering from yellow fever."

Ray breaks out in a grin. "These things happen. Can I pick you up for lunch?"

"Yes," Fraser says instantly.

Ray should feel guilty, but he doesn't. He just feels sad and happy at the same time. Some things are irreplaceable, and some things aren't. "Hey, and Benny? Do you mind if we stop by my cousin Al's garage on the way? I want to ask him to keep an eye out for a new '72 Riviera."


End file.
